


Sunday Kind of Love

by thattrainssailed



Series: Words Hung Above, But Never Would Form [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec takes a shower, Fluff, M/M, Mornings together, Smitten Magnus Bane, soft boyfriends, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 08:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14613567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thattrainssailed/pseuds/thattrainssailed
Summary: They’d been able to kiss languidly in a patch of sunlight until Alexander had pulled away, wrinkled his nose adorably, and confessed that he felt slightly less than fresh. The haze of morning intimacy gone, Magnus found himself agreeing - the shadowhunter was a mess. His hair was everywhere; his chest had sweated during the night; there was the glisten of drool on the right side of his mouth. Even through his adoration, Magnus had to admit his boyfriend looked slightly like garbage.So now he’s using Magnus’ shower for the first time.And for some reason, Magnus is having an emotional crisis over it.





	Sunday Kind of Love

Magnus had no idea that someone showering could be an emotional experience.

It’s not that Alexander hadn’t stayed over before. Hell, it’s been weeks now since that first night when Alexander had looked at the clock and asked, hesitantly, if he could stay over rather than embarking on the walk back to the Institute at 2am. His uncertain voice had quickly softened into a smile at the way Magnus’ face had lit up, how his first attempt at agreement had come out as a high-pitched “Yes!”. That first night asleep beside Alexander had felt like magic; not in the sparks-flying sense, but in the way of Magnus’ own power. Warm, familiar, and safe. 

Like many good things in Magnus’ life, that comfort was ripped away from him by the Institute about four hours later. A phone call left them both bleary-eyed and grumpy, Magnus resisting the urge to pout as Alexander leaned down to kiss him goodbye as the first rays of morning struggled to warm up the freezing loft. Sleep was elusive after that, Magnus unable to distract himself from the feeling of emptiness in his bed. Which was ridiculous, given that he’s had the bed for decades and Alexander had only slept in it for four hours, but apparently there was no going back.

The next time Alexander slept over had been a week later, and it was… different. It wasn’t an outright question that time, more an assumption that came with wandering hands and hot mouths and whimpers while Magnus encouraged Alexander to _let go, there you are, so good_. Magnus couldn’t bring himself to repress the satisfaction he felt at seeing his boyfriend boneless and panting in his bed. He’d opted to clean them both up with a lazy wave of his hand. A Greater Demon couldn’t pull him away from Alexander at that moment; a shower wasn’t even in the question.

The next couple of times passed in the same way: kisses slowly getting deeper, relocation to the bedroom, activity that left them both flushed and giggling, and Magnus cleaning them with a gesture before tucking himself into Alexander’s side. The shadowhunter generally left early the morning after, his job seemingly holding a grudge against his relationship. Although, given Magnus’ history with the Clave, that actually isn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Magnus had been fine with it. He appreciates all the time he gets to spend with Alexander.

 This morning, however, is the first time that Magnus actually considers the fact that Alexander hasn’t showered at the loft before. Between his early mornings and their shared reluctance to get out of bed after an orgasm, he’d just ended up showering at the Institute even when he stayed overnight at Magnus’. It’s not an earth-shattering realisation for the warlock. It’s just… a thing. Less than a Big Thing, but still somehow significant.

It’s a Sunday - Magnus’ designated day off, pending emergency or large payout - and Alexander has somehow managed to plead his way into being able to ignore the Institute for 48 hours. They’d kicked it off by falling into bed as soon as Alexander arrived at the loft last night, and that had all been familiar, even if they’re still in the process of trying new things in bed. But this morning, waking up together naturally and having no reason to rush… it’s different. They’d been able to kiss languidly in a patch of sunlight until Alexander had pulled away, wrinkled his nose _adorably,_ and confessed that he felt slightly less than fresh. The haze of morning intimacy gone, Magnus found himself agreeing - the shadowhunter was a mess. His hair was everywhere; his chest had sweated during the night; there was the glisten of drool on the right side of his mouth. Even through his adoration, Magnus had to admit his boyfriend looked slightly like garbage.

So now he’s using Magnus’ shower for the first time.

And for some reason, Magnus is having an emotional crisis over it.

He’s always felt comfortable with Alexander. Something about the shadowhunter just… clicked, and Magnus had found himself opening up _far_ quicker than he even realised. And it’s worked so far - Alexander’s almost-wedding aside, they fit well. It’s been easy to establish a familiarity in their relationship, even in the scant few weeks they’ve started having sex. Yet somehow this morning together feels even more intimate than that.

Because Magnus has had plenty of one-night stands. He’s used to that kind of physical closeness, knows how to handle himself. But this cuddling in the sun-warm bed, Alexander taking his time in the shower, Magnus sipping his coffee while wondering whether Alexander prefers apple or orange juice? Well, it’s been far longer since anything like that. A morning together is a different kind of affection to a night; it’s bed-heads and smudged mascara, sleep-sweat and drool on the pillow. It’s imperfect and uncomposed, and there’s a vulnerability to that. One that he trusts Alexander with, even after just a few weeks.

There are butterflies in Magnus’ stomach that he never could have predicted. 

He attempts to focus on the juice dilemma at hand. It’s a welcome distraction, and besides, it’s important to prioritise. Fruit intake first, reflections on vulnerability later. His first instinct is orange, but Alexander _is_ full of surprises - maybe he prefers sweeter? Orange tends to be more substantial, though, and Alexander is a warrior. Wait, if he does prefer orange, would he want pulp or no pulp? Magnus frowns and waves his hand; the apple juice bottle in his hand turns to no-pulp orange. He squints at them. 

God, how smitten is he that he’s fussing over _pulp_?

He’s broken out of his juice-related reverie by the squeak of the bathroom door. The bottles disappear in rhythm with his flourishing turn on his heel, and apparently those butterflies have decided that fuck it, it’s a party. 

His boyfriend is… well. Alexander’s hair is damp and water trickles down his neck, a droplet bisecting his _Deflect_ rune in a path that Magnus wants to follow with his tongue. His pale skin looks so _soft_ and there’s a sudden pull in Magnus’ fingers to run his hands all over it. A towel is wrapped carefully around Alexander’s hips, and being jealous of cloth isn’t something that Magnus ever predicted, but here he is.

Magnus is in the process of choosing which of those things to act on first when the smell drifts to him. 

 _Sandalwood_.

Regardless of what his friends might say about his penchant for dramatics, Magnus never actually intended to have a signature scent. It just sort of… happened. You fall into a routine of toiletries and five years later you realise you’ve been buying the same kind of smell over and over and it ends up just becoming a thing. It’s simple. Magnus likes sandalwood. It’s steady and smooth and comforting.

Until this moment, however, Magnus has never really appreciated what it means to have a smell that’s _his_.

Because if sandalwood is synonymous with Magnus, and Alexander now smells like sandalwood, then… fuck, that’s something. It’s not as though it’s overpowering, it’s just the scent of bodywash and shampoo that will inevitably fade within an hour or so. Hell, if Magnus wasn’t so focused on Alexander, he might not have even noticed that he smelled any different. But he has noticed. Sandalwood curls into his senses and warms his throat down to his stomach, nudging at his chest until his heart speeds up to answer. Each pump seems to make the thought louder in his brain. _Mine. Mine. Mine._

He doesn’t realise it’s tugging him forward until Alexander is within touching distance, eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. His hands flutter beside him. They make a brief motion towards Magnus before changing their minds and settling back at his sides. 

Magnus is fully aware that he’s staring, but God, he so does not care right now. A smile squeezes his eyes and only gets wider when Alexander slowly returns it, albeit bemused. Magnus threads his arms around Alexander’s neck and presses close, face burrowing into Alexander’s shoulder. A couple of seconds later, a pair of arms encircle his waist. It’s quiet; all Magnus cares about is the warmth of Alexander’s skin, the feel of his chest, the scent of sandalwood all over him. He smells like Magnus. Because he stayed overnight, and he’s still here for the morning. Because Alexander is Magnus’. And Magnus trusts him.

It’s a few minutes before the warlock finally pulls back to beam up at his boyfriend. Alexander still looks slightly confused, but it can’t cloud the pure affection in his gaze. The intensity of it is almost too much, and Magnus has to take a deep breath to ground himself. Familiarity surrounds him. He kisses Alexander’s cheek, savouring the sandalwood scent under his skin. 

“Apple or orange juice?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing an essay about hieroglyphics but nope, apparently Alec Lightwood taking a shower is more important.
> 
> I post more writing on [tumblr](https://thattrainssailed.tumblr.com/).


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